thestormishere: (something that's missing)
Cut for non-interactive part. )

Zack Fair has gone home.

[ The woman's voice is flat, her face expressionless but unhidden for the journals, her pride refusing to allow anything else. Even so, there remains an all-too-telling pause after she's gotten that most important part out, her tongue tied by the knowledge of just what going home means for him in particular. It takes her a moment to press on towards the rest of what she intended to say, but then- ]

The leadership of Brave Vesperia is left to Sokka, Luke, and Emil... under the concession that the name remains as it is. Everything else will need to be sorted out... as well as his bar shifts.

[ ... Another brief pause, but then there's just nothing more to add without prompting; lips turning down for just a moment, she cuts the initial message off right there.

And once that's done, there's not much else to do aside from what she probably should have done before gathering up all her belongings: scoping out somewhere else to go that's not the house she shared with her friends here for so long. Accompanied by her doggy shadow, she wanders the village with apparent purpose but... without an actual goal in mind.

At least a conscious goal, that is. By the evening, she's there at Good Spirits anyway, even though technically she doesn't have a reason to go any more. She simply slips in and finds a table to frown at, eventually wondering herself why she feels a need to be in public at all, when most people in her position (especially with a personality like hers) would be hiding away.

The answer's not too hard, but it keeps her mind occupied well enough. ]
thestormishere: (across the way)
October 2nd, House 41, tl;dr )

Later October 2nd, voice, filtered to Noel )

October 4th, Voice
[ It's been since before her disappearance and then almost immediate return that Lightning's made any sort of widely public, intentional post, but today apparently she's got something heavy enough on her mind to warrant attempting to soothe her curiosity.

It doesn't bother her so much though, and even those who have only seen or met her in passing should be able to tell that there's something subtly different about her- in a way that surpasses the fact that she's apparently sustained a haircut, and those wings fanned out slightly behind her are different colors than before, once-red wing turned white, once-white turned to silver and gold. She regards the journal thoughtfully a moment before speaking, her voice deliberately even. ]


If I remember correctly, the viewpoints over what happens to us after death... are as varied here as the worlds we're pulled in from. Reward and punishment, returning to where our spirits belonged in the first place... simply fading into oblivion....

[ She pauses, and a clock fixed to the wall behind her - an antique-looking, wooden piece of work - fills the air with steady ticks and tocks as she takes in a breath or two, looking up and over past the 'camera.' ]

When we die here, we return but a week later... although missing a piece of who we were before. [ Another breath. Tick, tock. ] What do you suppose happens, in the meantime?

Do you believe it is different than 'home?'

[ Sure, she knows this sort of thing's been brought up before, but... if it's ever been in these exact words, she definitely isn't going to waste her time digging through years of others' entries looking for it. ]

January 2013

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